


ashes to ashes

by onefootonego (startingXI)



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Gen, TW: Blood, TW: Violence, tw: death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 19:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17106896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startingXI/pseuds/onefootonego
Summary: “did it help?” she asks.“no.” you say quietly, because no, killing the people responsible for alex’s death has not made you feel in the least bit better.“do you feel worse?”“yeah.”





	ashes to ashes

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes i write stupid amounts of fluff to celebrate the christmas season. sometimes i write stuff like this.
> 
> imagine this in a season one-ish setting. post-season one and pre-season two.

there is blood on your hands. 

they itch. 

there is dried blood on your hands and you can’t make it go away. 

you are sitting in the dark, cape collected in a pool of blood that has gone sticky and viscous. you are surrounded by the tang of blood. it is harsh and metallic in the air. part of you wants to choke and gag on the scent - most of you doesn’t care. 

“kara-“ 

a voice.

a voice is unexpected. a voice makes you jump.

you turn and see lucy in the doorway. her eyes are wide, her hands are up, fingers spread “kara can i come in?” 

you shrug. it’s not your house, you don’t really care. 

“i’m gonna come in.” lucy says and you look away from her. 

you turn your attention back to the patch of darkness you were staring into. you can hear her though, can hear the way she steps around the blood. you guess she’s three, maybe four feet from you when she stills, when she kneels down. 

“did it help?” she asks. 

“no.” you say quietly, because no, killing the people responsible for alex’s death has not made you feel in the least bit better. 

“do you feel worse?” 

“yeah.” 

it’s hardly a shocking admission, but perhaps more surprising is the fact that you say it at all. that you haven’t already taken off, far and away from lucy and the deo presence she no doubt represents. 

“can you look at me?” lucy’s words are soft, gentle - if not for her tactical suit and the convoy she arrived with, you wouldn’t have placed her as deo affiliated in this moment. 

“i don’t want to.” you like the darkness more. 

“okay.” lucy is agreeable “you don’t have to.” 

she doesn’t press for long moments, leaving you alone with your thoughts. leaving you to break the silence next “are you here to arrest me?” 

“no.” lucy says. 

that earns a sharp look in her direction - you know she’s carrying cuffs. you know she’s got a tactical team on standby at the end of the hall. 

“why are you here?” you ask, you push “ to tell me this isn’t what alex would have wanted me to do?” 

“no.” and this time lucy is giving a small laugh “i think we both know alex well enough, she,” there’s a break in her voice and you can hear the tears caught there “she would have done far worse if it’d been you.” 

“i know.” you say quietly, and lucy continues talking. 

“but,” she says “you’re not alex.” 

you say nothing. 

“i think,” lucy says “i think that this, all this killing, this isn’t what you want.” 

you bristle, but lucy keeps talking. 

“i think you’re so full of hurt and loss and pain that you can’t stand it. i think you’re trying to find ways to make it all go away. but kara you, you’re too good a person.” 

your hollow laugh sounds louder in the room. 

“you’re too good a person.” lucy pushes on “but even good people have a breaking point. and i think,” you turn to look at her and see the tears shining in her eyes “i think you’ve been pushed past your breaking point.” she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand “i think losing alex, i think it broke something in you. something you don’t think can be fixed.” 

you’re shaking. 

“kara,” you wonder if lucy practiced all this “kara i don’t think you’re a bad person. i don’t think you’re past saving. i know that’s what you think. but you - there’s a four year old in the room next door, with her mom and kara if you were past saving, you would have killed them too. but you didn’t.” 

“it wasn’t their fault.” 

“i know, and that’s why you left them alone. that’s why you locked them in there. you kept them away from,” she pauses “from you doing what you had to do.” 

“doing what i had to?” the words feel foreign on your tongue and the confusion is clear. 

you don’t know what she means. 

“doing what you had to do.” lucy repeats “i’m not saying it was okay, but” she lets out a soft sigh “you don’t have to be alone anymore in this. i’m not here because i think this isn’t what alex would have wanted. i’m here because i don’t think you want to do this anymore. i think you’re exhausted and you’re grieving a lifetime of grief all over again. 

“lucy-“ you voice wavers “lucy i can’t.” 

“you can.” lucy says gently “all you have to do is trust me, okay?” 

you can’t. 

“i won’t let anything happen to you.” 

“i killed people.” 

“so have i.” 

“i murdered people.” 

“you’re not a bad person.” lucy pushes “you’re not a bad person and i’m not going to let you do this to yourself.”

“it’s too late.” you half cry, half bite “i’ve already done it. i’ve already killed. taken lives. i-“ you’re choking on breath now “i don’t know what you see in me, but it’s gone. i killed it.” 

“you haven’t.” lucy says and she’s much closer now. 

her hand touches your shoulder. 

“i don’t think you’re dangerous.” she says “i don’t think you want to hurt anyone else.” 

“i don’t know what i want.”

you’re breaking. 

crumbling. 

the space where alex used to be is gaping and without her you feel untethered from everything you knew. 

“just trust me.” lucy murmurs “okay? i just need you to trust me.” 

you don’t know what else to do. lucy’s hand is warm against your shoulder, her words are soft - she hasn’t attacked you or yelled at you. she has spoken, she has grieved with you. 

you crack. 

“what do you want me to do?” 

lucy’s hand runs down your back, feather light “if i ask you to fly to cat grants apartment, will you do that?” 

you swallow hard. not sure. 

“trust me.” lucy says quietly “it’s going to be okay.” 

you’re not sure. 

but lucy sounds so sure. 

“okay.” you relent “okay i’ll do it.’ 

“i’ll meet you there.” lucy promises, her hand squeezing lightly at your shoulder, urging you to your feet. 

you stumble to the window, press a hand against it, just enough to shatter it. 

there is blood on your hands. 

they itch, but the night air feels cool against them. 

you follow directions, do as told. 

you fly to cat grants. 

// 

there is nothing surprising for you in the fact that cat barely blinks an eye at your arrival. in fact, she seems oddly well prepared. you arrive through the balcony doors and are stepping into a penthouse apartment you’ve never seen before.

this is only one of her residences, that much you know - but of them, you wonder if this is the one she’s lived in the most. there are photos of carter on the wall, a few of them both. the kitchen has dishes in the sink and the soft hum of the dishwasher. 

to your right, there is cat. she’s curled on the couch, looking down at a magazine. the tv is on, giving the otherwise unlit room a flickering, unnerving appearance. 

“kara.” cat says, eyeing the fact that you’re in your blood covered supergirl suit “shut the door behind you.” 

you do as told. 

cat looks up, over the rim of her glasses at you “try not to get blood everywhere.” she says, so casual, so unperturbed. 

you stand stock still, not sure where to go, what to say or what you’re doing here. 

“you can come sit.” cat says, and her tone is a far cry from the person who first employed you. there’s not pity there, something else. something more. 

you shake your head. 

“if you're concerned about getting blood all over my furniture, i have taken the appropriate precautions. not to mention it would be a valuable excuse to purchase something new." there's a pause, wherein kara feels herself being gauged before cat continues on "you are, of course, welcome to just stand there until ms. lane arrives,” cat says “but from my understanding she may be a while.” 

“your understanding?” your voice cracks. 

“believe it or not,” cat says “there is something of a plan in place.” 

“what is it?” 

“sit down and i’ll tell you.” 

you can’t move, there’s too much blood. you can feel it on your hands, your arms. flecked on your face. too much blood even for the towels cat has splayed across the far end of the couch. 

“the bathroom is down the hall, second door on your left.” cat says “left handle for the shower. right for the temperature.” 

you nod. 

you move slowly, with footsteps that barely touch the ground. the bathroom is huge. it’s made of dark granite and chrome. not quite what you thought cat’s style would be. to your left there is the sink, the vanity, the mirror. 

one errant glance makes your stomach twist. 

you keep your gaze focused elsewhere. 

you focus on the floor, where piece by piece you shed your suit. free from it, it’s easier to breathe. the tension across your shoulders, across your lungs is somewhat less. on the counter by the sink you see two towels and a neatly folded pile of clothes. they are your clothes.

somewhat of a plan in place indeed. 

figuring out how to work the shower takes longer than it should. your brain is not quit caught up with the rest of you. your brain is caught on the blood and the dying and alex gasping her last words in your arms. 

you turn the water as hot as it will go, letting the steam swirl around you, engulfing you. you step under the spray and look down. the water runs pink. it seems to run pink for long, long seconds. longer still when start rubbing your hands together, aching to get the blood off, get it away. 

soon all you’re left with is the sick feeling in your stomach. 

the unsettled, twisted feeling you can’t quite get rid of. 

under the spray your thoughts get lost to the pounding of the water against the tiles. you ache. your entire body, to your very core. 

you want to lash out. you want to cry. you want to scream. you want to do a lot of things but you are all to aware that this is cat grants bathroom. 

instead you cut the water. 

you dry yourself slowly, working on autopilot. the blood is gone, but you don’t feel much cleaner. you think you could spend an hour under the spray and you still wouldn’t feel clean. so why try? all you wanted was the blood gone. 

and now it is. 

you get dressed, slipping into the clothes that someone - lucy?- got for you. comfortable soft clothes that are not alex’s. that have no connection to alex besides every time you’ve worn them for sister night, and game night and the three nights after alex was kidnapped and nearly drowned. 

no connection at all. 

you look down at the suit, not sure what to do. 

you leave it. 

you walk back out into the apartment and there’s a soft “out here.” from cat, and you go back out to the living room. 

she surveys you, gesturing you to sit on the opposite end of the couch from her. 

you do. 

you look at her “how long have you known?” 

“that you were supergirl?” 

you nod. 

“from the moment you tried to convince me how normal you were. with your less than normal vision. maybe slightly before.” 

“why not say something?” 

“and ruin the game of you trying to hide it from me?”

you look down. 

“ms. grant,” you start. 

she cuts you off “i believe i was going to tell you the plan.” she says “once you sat down.” 

“oh,” you say, twisting your hands in your lap “right.” you look over at her “what’s the plan?” 

“keep you safe.” cat says “from yourself. from the deo and whatever other clandestine organisations who may or may not want you contained in the wake of whatever it is you did that reminded them how unstoppable you are.” 

you swallow hard “i-“ you can’t say it, you don’t want to admit it, don’t want cat to look at you any different. it seems though, you do not have much of a choice. the words are being pulled from your chest before you can stop them “ms. grant i murdered people. that - that’s what i did.” 

“oh i know that.” cat says and she’s not flippant, but she’s self assured in her words “if lucy hadn’t already told me, i would have been able to guess that much.” 

“she told you?” 

“part of our full disclosure agreement in return for me helping hide you.” your face flickers and you twist your hands a little bit more “however,” cat says “that’s not why i’m helping you.” 

you say nothing.

“i can tell you why i’m helping you, if you would like.” it’s not a question, it’s an offer. 

“please.” you say quietly. 

“unlike you, i do not think you are past helping. i think you are very much worth saving.” 

well you don’t know what to say to that. 

so you say nothing. 

“lucy informed me that it was my job to make you eat something.” 

“i’m not-“ 

“kara.” cat says “food is not optional. not even for aliens.” 

you realise you are not getting away without eating something. 

“pizza.” you say “please.” 

“i had been warned you may say that.” 

“oh, it can be-“ 

“pizza has already been ordered.” cat says “ms. lane knows you well.” 

so it does seem. 

//

somewhere between pizza arriving and moving to a table to consume it, exhaustion creeps into your bones. it seeps through your skin, and twists itself around your stomach, leaving cat with two untouched pizzas and most of a third. 

“when was the last time you slept?” cat asks.

she’s seated adjacent to you, one piece of pizza eaten in the time it took you to eat three. unlike you, cat is reaching for another round, pulling a slice of cheese onto her plate. 

“not sure.” you reply, “don’t want to sleep. “

which is true. you don’t. you don’t want to subject yourself to the nightmares that linger there. the nightmares, the memories, all of them leading to 

alex. 

alex’s death. 

alex’s blood on your hands. 

alex’s body in your arms. 

your failure heavy in your heart. 

you blink, tears blur your vision and perhaps there is a moment of understanding for cat, for what you can’t quite say yet but desperately wish to convey. 

“i’m sorry kara,” cat says “for your loss.” 

everyone has been saying that to you, but when it’s cat saying those words - in this space, they feel different. 

“i can not imagine what you’re feeling. but you should not go through it alone.” 

lucy’s words come to you now, 

“you don’t have to be alone anymore in this.” 

and the tears welling in your eyes, find their way down your cheeks. you push the chair back and bring your knees up, pressing them against your chest. you’ve cried so much, 

so often. 

but never like this. 

never feeling this much. 

“it hurts.” you force out, the words slurred and swollen, “it hurts too much.”

cat stands, you hear the slide of her chair against the hardwood floor. you hear short steps and then, 

cat’s hand is on your shoulder. feather light, barely there at all. yet she doesn’t waver. 

“let it out, kara.” she says, “you have to let it out.” 

if you let it out now, you may never be able to stop. 

“holding it in will destroy you.” cat murmurs. 

you think it already has.

**Author's Note:**

> this was, once upon a time, going to be part of a larger story - but the plot for that has gone. i believe i also posted a fragment of this on my tumblr, but i can't remember.


End file.
